


The Green

by Fictionwriter



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Gen, Lewis Spring Challenge 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 19:43:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionwriter/pseuds/Fictionwriter
Summary: A beautiful sunny day in May and Robbie and James go for a drive in the country





	The Green

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to moth2fic for the beta

It started well, the day a beautiful patchwork of alternate blues and shady greens. James was driving, a comforting presence at Robbie’s side, their conversation as casual and unhurried as the suggestion Robbie had made that they spend the day together. That James accepted the invitation with more alacrity than he’d expected could have had something to do with a desperate desire to be away from the office, even away from Oxford, but not, it seemed, away from Robbie.

The further they drove the more the sun flooded the countryside in a radiant glow, bathing trees and hills in iridescent colours. Robbie could feel the body next to him gradually lose tension and relax under the influence of the day. He took a glance in James’s direction, that crease in his forehead, the one Robbie had wanted to see smoothed out, was less pronounced now and Robbie felt a lightness of heart and smugness of self-satisfaction that his plan was working so well.

The village at the next turn in the road was a refugee from a picture book. The real deal, idyllic and quaint thatched houses lining both sides of the main street, baskets filled with peonies and trailing petunias hanging from neat porches, while yew and ash draped graceful branches over Dickensian-like shops with olde worlde wooden signs across the doorway and boards in the windows marked ‘open’. The town seemed to have been turned into a fairground; there was even a maypole in the middle of the village green.

James slowed the car down to a crawl; it seemed the whole population of the village was crowded into the street and onto the green. They were a mixed lot, some in what looked like period costume, some in suits and ties, and a fair smattering of what could be Morris dancers. There were children too, the girls all dressed up in pretty ankle length summer dresses and cotton smocks, the boys in knickerbockers and flat caps. It was such a juxtaposition of yesteryear and modern that it gave Robbie a feeling of disorientation, of not belonging.

James stopped the car and turned to Robbie. The sun was shining through the driver’s side window, clouding James’s face in misty yellow light as he spoke, “Shall we?” He was nodding towards the green and there was one of those beguiling smiles tipping at the edges of his mouth.

Although Robbie could think of no reason why they shouldn’t he had a feeling of reluctance and couldn’t quite put his finger on why. James was waiting though, expectation in his look, so Robbie smiled back and got out of the car.

No one seemed to notice them at first. There was music playing somewhere, although Robbie couldn’t spot the musicians, something with a Celtic folk flavour – fiddles and harps, or maybe guitars. The sound seemed to float over the general hubbub of the green, carried on the soft breeze that stirred the leaves in the trees, so it seemed if they were swaying and bending to the rhythm of the music. The children had gathered around the maypole and at a signal from a man dressed in the sombre garb of a schoolmaster from before Robbie’s time the music changed in tone to something bright and merry. The children skipped their way around the pole in time to the beat before grabbing hold of the brightly coloured ribbons to begin their intricate weaving dance. The adults clapped and cheered and Robbie lingered to watch until the ribbons were firmly entwined on the pole, the dance ended and the adults led their smiling offspring away.

He hadn’t noticed James had left his side until he nudged Robbie’s elbow and handed over one of the two pints of cider he was holding. Robbie nodded his thanks and took a sip of the fruity brew but it seemed tasteless and insipid on his tongue.

They wandered the green then, which seemed even larger than Robbie had first thought. There were food and craft stalls scattered around, even a coconut shy and hoopla game. People in the crowd greeted them with a touch of a cap or nod as they passed. The ladies in period dress even gave pretty curtseys, which James seemed to find amusing.

Finally they reached the edge of the green and there was something Robbie hadn’t noticed before. A large bonfire of straw and wood had been set up at the corner and it was starting to attract a large crowd of youths and their girls.

Another thing that Robbie hadn’t noticed until then was the fading light. It didn’t seem that long since they had stopped the car at the edge of the green, but he looked towards the horizon and there the sun was setting, twilight descending rapidly upon the green.

Someone must have set light to the bonfire because hungry flames had begun to lick at the base, consuming straw and kindling with a voracious appetite. The lads shouted their approval and the girls laughed and giggled as they began to circle the fire, holding hands and singing in voices that seemed to echo back out of the darkness. The dance was like the maypole all over again, only it was sheets of flame coming from the centre instead of brightly coloured ribbons. Then one of the lads dashed forward and as his fellows clapped and chanted he jumped over the bonfire, landing neatly on the other side before turning and jumping back again. Another followed suit, then another.

Robbie and James had been standing on the periphery watching, but now suddenly they seemed much closer, so close that Robbie could feel the heat of the fire on his face.

James turned to look at him. “Jumping the bonfire, an old custom in some countries,” he said, as if the information had been there all the time, just waiting to be spoken. “Dates from pagan times, a ritual for fertility and youth I believe.” He turned back to stare into the flames. “Think I might give it a go.”

“Are you mad?” Robbie had to shout above the clapping and revelry. “It looks dangerous.”

“Not at all,” James told him and started forward, the flames a backdrop to his striding figure.

Robbie remembered another fire and James silhouetted in its brightness.

“No, James, don’t,” he shouted in rising panic. There was something wrong; his senses prickled with it. He reached out, but his grabbing hands missed, seeming to pass through James’s body, as if he had suddenly become insubstantial.  James continued his pace towards the bonfire where the flames were now reaching high towards the night sky. The young people increased their shouts of encouragement and fervour and Robbie kept pace with his own incantation of no-no-no-no.

Finally James reached the edge of the flames, and jumped …

 

Robbie jerked awake, his heart throbbing a painful beat in his chest. He gasped, trying to steady his breathing and the wild pace of his pulse, disoriented, terror still hammering at his being. Reality came to him gradually. It was all a dream, a nightmare and he was home, in his bed, pale light seeping into the room from the comfortingly familiar curtains on the window.

He jumped to the sound of a door slamming and footsteps in the passage.

“Robbie, are you ready? The car’s parked outside.”

The bedroom door opened and James was standing there, all casual in jeans and long sleeved band t-shirt.

“You’re not even up yet,” he said with a disgruntled look at a ruffled Robbie sitting up in bed. “This day out in the country was your idea, you know.”

Robbie tried desperately to clear his head, chase away the last tendrils of the nightmare that were still fresh.

“Yeah, sorry,” he muttered, his throat raw and scratchy, almost as if he’d been screaming in his sleep. “Didn’t hear the alarm.” Well, he hadn’t heard anything other than the chants and music that still played vaguely through his head. James could cut him some slack, especially considering the last vision he had of him was a graceful jump into a burning conflagration. But of course James didn’t know that and he certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

He threw back the covers instead and stood up. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”

James seemed to sense his mood and backed out of the room. “No problem, I’ll put the kettle on while you get dressed.”

He dressed more slowly than he perhaps should have, trying to get his equilibrium back in order. When he was done he went into the kitchen where there was tea and James with a concerned look on his face.

“Are you alright? You look a bit fragile.”

“I’m fine, didn’t sleep well is all.”

“Then this day in the country will do us both good,” James told him, pushing himself up from the counter he was leaning against. “Let’s go.”

 

Robbie looked out the car window, at the brilliant blues and greens that flashed past. James sat behind the wheel, driving through a countryside that sparkled in the sunshine, like it had just been washed clean after a rainy day. They had decided to head in the general direction of Gloucestershire and see where the road took them. The further they got the more the threads of Robbie’s nightmare dissipated and he finally let himself relax into the day and the journey, the feeling of panic that he’d woken with almost gone. What had brought on such a stupid dream he had no idea; he was just glad it was gone.

James brought the car around a curve in the road, slowing down as they approached the edge of a village that could only be described as quaint, with thatched cottages, old-fashioned shops and hanging baskets full of flowers. According to the banner across the main street it was the annual Mayday fair and the village was a hive of activity. Stalls had been set up under the shade of the yew trees and on the village green, there was even a maypole in the middle of the green and Robbie could see the beginnings of a bonfire at the far edge.

“Nice place to stop for lunch,” James suggested, slowing to a crawl and looking for a parking space. “And I’m hungry.”

“No,” Robbie almost shouted, then swallowed his terror and steadied his voice. “Let’s go on, bound to be something a bit quieter further on.”

James gave him an odd look, but didn’t say anything as they drove past the green.

 

Fin


End file.
